Four Brothers
by starry-oblivion
Summary: After losing two people very close to him, Casey is caught in a downwards spiral. Can Raphael pull him out of it and save his friend, or is Casey on his own? Character death mentioned.


"Casey, ya can't keep doin' this to yourself, man."

"Do me a favor, bonehead," Casey slurred, pulling away from the grip Raphael had on his elbow. "When it becomes _your_ life, then you can decide what happens, okay?" Raphael glared down at his friend. "Yeah, it might be your life," he told the man sitting at the table with a bottle of vodka in one hand, "but it's also your _liver_. So stop bein' such a moron for once 'n-"

"How the hell can you just stand there, givin' me this bullshit?" Casey screamed at the top of his lungs as he stood sharply in front of the turtle. "What, you takin' Leo's place now, is that it?" Shocked by Casey's words, Raphael pushed him as hard as he could, sending him flying over his chair and breaking it. "That was _way_ outta line, even for an idiot like _you_."

Casey lay on the floor, staring up at his cracked ceiling. Judging by the angry growl in his friend's words, he knew that he had just deeply hurt Raphael. He found himself gratified by that knowledge. _Good, _he thought. _Let 'im hurt. Let 'im feel the way _I_ do. Then maybe we'll snuff each other out and won't have to feel this no more._

"One 'a these days, Casey Jones," Raphael muttered, swiping the half-empty bottle from the table. "One 'a these days, you're gonna push the wrong button and start a nuclear war. I told you, you don't _ever_ mention Leo, and I don't mention-" Casey sat straight up, grabbing a piece of splintered wood from the chair and throwing it at Raphael's legs. "You think that's it, huh? You think forgettin' about 'em is just gonna erase 'em, just gonna make the pain go away? Is that what you think?"

"I didn't say _forget_ 'em," Raphael sternly corrected as he regained his footing. "I never said that. Nothing is ever gonna take 'em away from where it matters. But you, you chowderhead, with _this_—" At that, Raphael looked down at the bottle of vodka with disgust. "—_this_ is like _you_ tellin' me that _you're_ the one that wants to forget 'em."

He suddenly turned, headed for the sink. "Hey," Casey called. "Where ya goin' with that? Raph, don't you even think about—" Raphael did not just think about it. His thoughts were always immediately followed by action. Holding the bottle upside-down, he watched the clear liquid spill down the drain, knowing what was going to happen next.

In a flash, Casey was on his feet. "You little _crud_!" Charging at the turtle, he yelled, "That's the third one this month!" He was stopped by a sudden punt to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. "Try third this _week_, pal," Raphael told him. "I've lost track 'a how many it's been this month. Reminds me: you paid your rent?" Casey looked up at him, his bleary eyes trying to figure out what day it was. Putting his head in his hands, he mumbled, "Aw, crap."

"Figured as much," Raphael said. "Why don't you just give up on this dump and move in with us?" Still trying to figure out what to do about his rent, Casey bitterly replied, "Oh, why, cuz ya got an extra room collectin' dust now, anyway?"

He heard an aggravated cry right before a pair of hands grabbed at the collar of his shirt and pushed him back, ramming him into a wall. "What the hell's the matter with you, Casey?" Looking into Raphael's face, he saw that the turtle's bandanna was dampened by tear stains. Strangely, either due to the alcohol or his own pain, Casey felt nothing in response to this. "You think this don't hurt me too? You think you're the only one that lost someone important to you? They were family, _both_ of 'em, _family._ How you think April'd feel, knowin' that you blot her out with that kinda crap, huh? How you think she'd feel, knowin' that she got killed over you and all you doin' is messin' up the life she gave ya? Or did ya just become some selfish jerk, hidin' out in his apartment until he gets evicted cuz he'd rather spend his money on booze than his rent?" Casey let a moment pass, then pulled Raphael's hands off of him. "Ya know what, turtle boy? I don't gotta listen to this. Get out."

"Don't even start that, Case-"

"I ain't startin' nuthin', 'pal.' I'm finishin' it." Casey pointed a finger to the open window from which Raphael had entered. "Get out. Everythin' we knew, everythin' we became friends for, it's all gone. Over. So this is, too. I don't need to know nuthin' about no mutants or ninjas or _any_thin'. See ya, Raph. We history."

Raphael simply stood there, considering Casey's words. "Case, you're drunk," he finally stated bluntly. "You ain't in your right mind-" He was interrupted by Casey's harsh words. "Yeah, and talkin' to a giant _freak_ is me bein' in my right mind?" Raphael flinched and looked to the front door. "Keep it down to a roar. Ya know how thin these walls are."

"I ain't gotta keep it down. Why I gotta keep it down? It's not like I gotta keep you from bein' seen. It's not like it's my responsibility. Not no more. You took away my girl, my shot at offin' the Purple Dragons-"

"_I lost my brother, Casey Jones!_" Raphael threw a punch, missing Casey's head by less than two inches. The plaster turned to dust beneath his knuckles and crumbled to the floor. "I took _nothing_ away! If you wanna pull the pissed-off victim card, go ahead, but we're _both_ in the same boat. You think I didn't love her, too? I _did_, just not the same way as you. Family, she was _family_, and _he_ was family, and _you_ family too! Don't even think that you gonna cut all ties with me, you numbskull, just cuz you're too shot up on Smirnoff to know what ya sayin'. Part 'a you's still sober, and part 'a you still remembers us bein' friends, and I'm gonna find that part 'a ya, even if I gotta rip it outta ya, you get me?"

A harsh knock sounded at the door. "Jones, what's with the racket? You drunk again?" Raphael looked to the door, then back at Casey. Pushing Raphael away from him, he called, "Drunk as a skunk, Mr. DePalma. And that ain't all." Seeing the man head to the door, Raphael whispered, "Casey, no."

"Wait'll you see what found its way into my apartment," Casey continued loudly, ignoring Raphael's plea. "Talk about vermin, whoo! You oughta fumigate this place if I'm gonna keep wakin' up to these kinda things in here." Casey swung the door open, stepping aside for the skeptical, middle-aged landlord to look inside. "Ever seen anythin' so ugly in your life?"

One eyebrow raised, Mr. DePalma scoured the room with his eyes. "Can't say that I have. No wonder you've got vermin crawling around if you keep the place looking like this." Casey turned to look behind him, only to see that the apartment was empty. "He up and split," he muttered.

Looking back at his landlord, Casey saw that his eyes were uncompromising. "Jones, do me a favor. Next time you decide to get plastered, make sure of two things first. One, get someone to stay with you so you don't start ranting like a lunatic every ten minutes. Two, save the money so you can pay me the rent. If I don't get nothing by next Friday, you're on the street." Without a farewell, he turned and closed the door behind him as he left.

Alone, Casey groaned and punched the wall as hard as he could.

* * *

"You're a creature of habit, Case."

Casey looked up from under his cap at the liquor store clerk. "Right," he replied noncommittally, taking the black bag off the counter and shoving his change in his pockets. He was asked a question, but ignored it as he left the store. Truth was, he was halfway through another binge when he realized he was out of alcohol, and so was already partially intoxicated that night.

Raphael had not come back. Casey couldn't decide how he felt about that. There were times when he half-expected to go to the window and see the turtle on the rooftop across the way, glaring at him darkly. Other times, he almost _knew_ that he was being watched, but could never catch sight of the well-trained ninja. Whether he had earned an enemy by ridding himself of Raphael, he didn't know. All he knew for sure was that he needed time away from the crazies, time to do his own thing… even if it _was_ as stupid and deteriorating as Raphael warned.

How long had it been since everything changed? A month? Longer? Only a couple of weeks? Casey's idea of time became skewed ever since he took up his nightly "hobby." Sobriety did little for him but force him to feel the pain… the loss… the guilt. _"She got killed over you,"_ he dimly recollected Raphael's voice saying. _No… no, it wasn't my fault. I couldn't do nothin' about it, I swear._

Some punk tried to grab her purse. She could've handled him, probably. But no, Casey had to go at him. Yelling. Cursing. Didn't know he had back-up. Who normally has back-up for a purse-snatching? But Casey had back-up, too. Green back-up, trained in ninjutsu. _Bang!_ Leo's hit.In comes April, the human shield. _Bang! _Leo tries to cover April. _Bang! Bang! _…it's over. Over except for the red, red rage. Leonardo is taken by his shocked brothers. A coroner just wouldn't understand a turtle. But coroners understand a girl. A girl jumping to protect her boyfriend. A girl who died because she felt before she thought.

"Well, if it ain't our old boy Casey Jones." Casey stopped at the sound of his name. "You remember Casey Jones, don'tcha, boys?" Sinister laughter rose behind him. "Oh yeah, we remember Casey Jones." He quickly whirled around. Wonderful. Just what the world needed. What angst-ridden flashback would be complete without the clear and present danger of Purple Dragons?

"You ain't got your signature weapons, old buddy?" Four of them closing in. Another was in the background, on a cell phone, obviously calling for comrades, just to be safe. "Does this mean poor little Baby Jones is all defenseless?" With a snarl, Casey clenched one of his fists. "In your dreams, dirtbag. If ya wanna rumble, I'm ready 'n waitin'."

"Just what I like to hear." The biggest one of the bunch ran for him. Casey quickly grabbed the neck of the bottle in his bag and swung the Jack Daniels over the guy's head. Glass shattered as the guy went down. "_Goongala!_" He rushed towards the others, the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Unfortunately, Casey didn't notice that the guy _hadn't_ gone down. He had fallen to his knees, but he was still able enough to throw his arms around Casey's legs, sending him flying to the floor, bits of fallen glass piercing his skin. The shattered bottle flew out of his hands and he heard the disheartening sound of his only weapon tinkling. Had he really been stupid enough to make a late-night trip to the liquor store without even packing a switchblade?

He was pulled up to his knees by his mane of dark hair. "What's this?" One of the Dragons sneered into his face, catching a whiff of the alcohol wafting from Casey's breath. "Smells like this guy's been living it up," he said mockingly. "And here I thought that old Two-Ton was just getting faster." His cheeks seared with anger and humiliation as he was laughed at by the bunch of creeps. They soon stung from the pain as he was hit in the face by someone wearing a very large ring.

Anger surged within him, but Casey suddenly found his limbs to be much heavier than they usually were during battle. "You jerks," he grunted from the ground. "Come a little closer and we'll see how cocky you-" He was interrupted by a kick to the chest. Breathing suddenly became much more difficult than Casey ever remembered it. He dismally realized that he was out of shape, having done nothing about the pain he experienced other than numb it with his bottles.

A bevy of engines suddenly sounded, and Casey looked up to see even more of the punks getting out of cars and making for him, armed with everything from chains to brass knuckles. _No guns_, he realized. _They ain't about to make this easy on me. Not like they did on… on…. _

Overcome by rage again, he tried to get up, only to be shoved back down by the smaller Dragon who had summoned the others. "Hope you don't mind, bud," the leering gang member told him. "Thought I'd invite a couple 'a more friends to the party. The more the merrier, after all."

"I couldn't agree more."

Everyone turned to the unexpected voice. Casey managed to look up and see three familiar forms in the shadows, weapons ready. _G-…guys?_ Raphael stepped out of the gloom, staring coldly at the group of over a dozen Purple Dragons. "Looks like someone's been messin' with our family again." Nunchucks in hand, Michelangelo added, "Not cool, dude. _Totally _not cool." Fury evident in his normally-calm face, Donatello declared, "We've lost _one_ of our brothers already. We're _not_ losing another one." Three battle cries sounded as one, and the mutants jumped into the fray.

Casey tried to stand, but every time he made it to his feet, he only succeeded in stumbling and tipping over garbage cans. _Outta shape_, he realized again, watching the turtles cut through his attackers. _I… I can't even _think_ about fightin'. I just wanna sleep this off, just wanna… oh man, my head._

He dropped his head into his hands, standing on his knees behind the skirmish. It would almost look as though he were terrified. In a way, he was. _The stuff I told Raph… oh man… April. _Leo._ What've I…. What've I been doin' to myself?_

Silence suddenly filled the air, and Casey slowly looked up. The Dragons that hadn't fled were currently unconscious, and the turtles were sheathing their weapons. Casey uncertainly made his way to his feet, balancing himself against the nearby building.

Raphael gazed at his friend, not knowing if his eyes were red-rimmed because of the booze or because he had finally permitted himself to cry. He would probably never know. This wasn't exactly something that he and Casey would talk about. Stooping down, the turtle picked up the cap that had flown off of Casey's head.

"Casey," Donatello uttered, "you okay? You're bleedin'." Michelangelo ventured a step towards him. "You okay to walk, bro?" _Bro,_ Casey marveled. _He just called me… bro._ And why not? No matter how much Casey may have wanted to deny it, the turtles had become an irrevocable part of his life. Looking at Raphael, he realized that now.

Not liking the sick look on Casey's face or the silence from the normally loudmouthed human, Raphael approached him and handed him his cap. "You lucky I wasn't about to let a knucklehead like you outta my sight so easy," he told him with a smirk.

Casey reached out a hand to accept the hat, but quickly lost his balance and nearly crumpled to the floor. He heard Donatello and Michelangelo gasp in surprise. Raphael quickly darted out and grabbed him, pulling him up before he fell. "Take it easy, Case," the turtle said quietly, sympathetically. "It'll all be okay. C'mon. We'll take you home." Within the first few steps, Casey realized that he wasn't being led back to his apartment.

Four once again, the brothers made their way back home.


End file.
